From: Crank

Not My Type

No shirt
hot bod.
His, that is.
So why did
I break out in
a sweat.

No shoes
barefoot,
bare chest, with
a bare, baby face
to make the
angels sing.

Nothing
but ragged
cut-offs,
hugging a
tawny six-pack,
and a smile.

No pin-up
pretty boy
could touch
a smile that
zapped every cell.
He was definitely

not my type.

Ellen Hopkins